


Uneasy Threads

by fake_years



Category: The Pacific - Fandom
Genre: Infidelity, Multi, Pining, Post-War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-13
Updated: 2012-12-13
Packaged: 2017-11-21 01:23:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/591849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fake_years/pseuds/fake_years
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Of all the places (imagined or otherwise) that Eugene Sledge existed inside Snafu’s mind, none remotely resembled Chatom, Alabama’s town square.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Uneasy Threads

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted in the pacific_fic lj community, under my old account

Snafu lived his life based on a series of understandings.

If you hit a man in the skull for long enough, he’d stop breathing. If you needed to shit, you waited 'til morning cus it ain't worth the risk. If a new recruit talked to you all wide-eyed and bushy-tailed, you forgot it fast as you could. That way when you saw his eyes on a corpse's face, it didn't roll around in your head for years after. That's what they didn't teach you in boot camp. That way when you were trying not to take a shit in the middle of the night, that face didn't turn up behind your eyelids screaming for Jesus. Except his voice was your ma's voice and his eyes weren't eyes, but holes filled up with dead Jap's toes. 

Merielle Shelton had fought men twice his size and had won every time, but it was a bone-thin runt who brought him low. His name was Eugene Sledge. Snafu could see right through him and the worst part was, he wasn't even trying. Eugene Sledge was thin-skinned as they came and Snafu knew that this life was gonna tear him apart. More skeleton than man. Eugene Sledge a.k.a. Sledgehamma a.k.a Gene. The name of the skeleton got shorter each week that he didn't die.

Months later, instead of blackness, Snafu fought the Japs with a vision. He fought with the image of Sledge in that too-sunny tent when they first met. He fought with the idea that one day he'd finally lean his head into the crook Sledge's neck. He could see it in the mud puddles under his feet.

It would be somewhere between asleep and awake, like always.Snafu would taste that blood later when he licked Sledge's fingers. Stray flares would bleach the night sky. Sledge would turn to face him. Their hands - the ones unoccupied by guns - would curl close so that their fingernails scraped the dried blood off of each other's palms. 

Sledge was Snafu's strained link to sanity in the pit that god forgot. One day - if it could be called that with the hours slipping together with too much blood - an explosion ripped open the landscape. His helmet danced against his skull so that bone collided with bone inside his mouth. His eyes sought out the pale line of Sledge’s nose, or a wisp of orange hair. Instead, a sea of dirty, suddenly-unrecognizable faces met him. Snafu felt a raw panic that he hadn't since he'd heard the endless thud of his pa's fist on his ma's tender cheeks. Only when Sledge took hold of his arm did Snafu notice a Jap's bayonet lunging for him.

 

__

Chatom, Alabama didn't suit Snafu. Of all the places (imagined or otherwise) that Eugene Sledge existed inside Snafu’s mind, none resembled a quiet town square. The backdrop of clean streets and candy-painted storefronts was jarring in a way that Peleliu hadn't been. He now looked into a face he hadn't stopped thinking about for two straight years, one he wouldn't be able to forget even if his brain finally turned to slush.

“Goddamn.” Eugene's facial muscles contorted. He smiled. He was breathing. Snafu met his eyes, and it was like two heavy stones dropped in the middle of an otherwise serene, placid afternoon. Eugene rocked back a couple of steps in the dusty street. “What’re you doing outta Louisiana?”

“Takin’ a shipment,” Snafu mumbled like they were trading baseball stats. His stomach threatened to hop right out of his throat as he blew a stream of smoke. “Guess I could ask same’a you, Mobile.”

Eugene's eyes (his lips) were wider, darker than Snafu had remembered. Snafu drank in the sight without remorse. “Oh yea, just visiting Diane here’s parents.” Eugene jerked his thumb behind him, still tempering down a smile. His facial expression abruptly shifted, “Diane! I want you to meet somebody. Diane Norville, Merriell Shelton. We were in the same division…”

A young girl in a lilac dress stepped forward. She looked almost translucent in the sunlight, after years of proper upbringing and cotillion balls. Her lips were stretched thin and sweet like saltwater taffy. She hesitated, initially unnerved by the predatory appraisal of Snafu's gaze. In spite of it, she stood her ground, extending her hand like a statement.

“Merriell, it’s such a pleasure to finally meet you,” she held her stiff arm at a perfect ninety degree angle from her neck.

“Pleasure's all mine,” Snafu stomped out his last cigarette. He took her hand and kissed it with cracked lips, “Girl like you don' need t'a be wastin' time on them table scraps ov'a here.” Eugene cracked a wary smile. Snafu looked between the two of them, new clothes and shoes without scuff marks, and felt he'd already over stayed his welcome. “Well, was stoppin’ for gas s’all. Gotta get the truck 'n be on my way.” He faltered only slightly as he nodded a curt farewell in their direction. The beginnings of a headache had blossomed into a screaming pain.

Before he could put a proper distance between them, Diane chimed in, “Mr. Shelton! It would be a shame if you didn’t stay with us at least for the night. A friend of Gene’s is a friend of ours after all!”

He stopped, begrudgingly angling his body in their direction, “Ain’t no need, truck works just fine.”

It was Eugene who responded, hesitant and commanding at the same time, “Come on Snafu, there’s plenty of extra beds, if you don’t have a place set up-”

“I insist!" Diane cut in. "You have to, I simply couldn’t bare the thought of you sleeping in some old truck when we have perfectly good rooms at home.”

“Never could say no t’a pretty lady,” Snafu leered.

___

A knocking at the door ricocheted through the house some time after midnight.

Eugene's heart leapt as he fumbled with the detective paperback in his lap. The grandfather clock across the hall's hand crept towards the one. He rubbed his eyes and tried to stamp down the irritation he'd been nursing since supper. When he swung open the screen door, he was met with a hazy figure leaning against a white porch column.

Backlit by the porch lights, Snafu stepped out of the dark dressed in a t-shirt and jeans. The light behind him shone like a perverse halo.

“Jesus Snafu, they ever teach you manners in the bayou?” Eugene sighed, his tone light with relief even as he scolded him.

“Gotta keep ‘em on their toes Sledgehamma,” he grinned, pushing his way inside. Eugene tried to ignore the smell of whiskey and sick on his clothes. “Missed mom ‘n pop? Didn' miss dinner, did I?”

“You’re an ungrateful bastard, you know that?”

Once inside, they moved in relative silence, only disturbed by the derisive whistles from Snafu as they passed the Norville's artwork lining the walls.

Eugene stepped aside to show him the guest bedroom. Linen sheets were folded into crisp submission accented by dollies on the bedside table. Snafu tossed his soiled knapsack onto the immaculate bed without a second glance. Neither man was certain of whether he'd actually be staying in it. The action recalled their first meeting when he'd tried claiming a bunk. It was to the point that Eugene could almost smell the bodies stewing in their own sweat, trapped inside the walls of their canvas tent. They mutually abandoned the house for the breathing room of the porch. Snafu tapped out two cigarettes from the crumpled box in his pocket. He dangled the second one as a casual invitation but Eugene held up his pipe to decline. The cicada’s rhythmic screeching beat against the surrounding blackness, not unlike the noise of the Peleliu jungle at night.

Snafu’s protruding lips and deep-set eyes remained angled away from Eugene. “Gene?” his voice came out unexpectedly timid. It was belied by his casual stance as he rested against the railing and crossed his arms. Devil-may-care. Troublemaker extraordinaire.

During the years apart, Eugene had grown unused to the weight of Snafu’s eyes on him. Now it was an ache that he could feel over his entire body. “Yea?”

“Always meant ta write or somethin’ but jus didn’ seem right..." Snafu began. His eyes shifted to study the wooden beams overhead. "How'm I supposed ta put all that shit down in some letter? Ain’t no fuckin' Willy Shakespeare like you.” Snafu could have told him how he'd almost hadn't gotten off the train and followed him home. He could have confessed that if he’d gotten too good of a look at Gene, might have followed him straight to Alabama like a lost puppy dog. In reality, he was too scared to say any of it.

Now Eugene laughed dismissively around his pipe. Fireflies popped in and out of the dark like a maddening game of hide and seek. Their coy lights flickered between the sharp blades of grass.

“Think you got time before you leave Chatom?” Eugene finally ventured, on the precipice of a larger question.

“Just might,” Snafu released a stream of smoke, “Watcha got in mind?”

“How’d you feel about staying for awhile tomorrow, maybe coming to service with us?”

___

 

The entire whitewashed interior of the chapel shone with the late morning sun. The straight backs of the pews shot up heavenward and their dark stain glistened like saintly tears. Snafu watched a fly beat its frantic little body in vain against a nearby windowpane as Eugene held the yellowed, leather hymnbook between them.

The pastor stood to take the podium. Bolstered by the thrill of a captive audience, the extra skin hanging beneath his chin flapped as he addressed the crowd. Snafu gave his focus to the trapped insect, until the pastor's sermon reached its climax. “Roman’s twelve reads: ‘I beseech you therefore, brethren, -by the mercies of God-," he roared, "That ye present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable unto God, which is your reasonable service!’ -”

A rustling came from Eugene's right, only to see Snafu shoving past the outstretched knees of his pew. Eugene immediately rose to follow. He whispered half-hearted apologies. Every stare burned at the back of his neck. Diane and her parents gaped, red with shock.

Outside, Eugene found Snafu gazing up at the clouds, cigarette returned to its rightful place between his lips. Snafu had already managed to free himself from the confines of his suit. His jacket now hung limp and lifeless over his elbow. His sleeves balled up around his forearms. He didn’t acknowledge Eugene at first, simply focusing on the wisps of cottony-white on scorching blue. 

“Come on, let’s get out of here,” Eugene cocked his head in the direction of the road.

“Like ta see Jesus blow up a goddamn Jap,” Snafu grumbled.

Ten minutes later, Their feet kicked up clouds along the side of the road. Loose ties swung side to side with each step like ropes on a tire swing. Eugene glanced once more at the miniature drawings of fish on Snafu’s tie and smiled. Both he and Diane’s father had options for Snafu to choose from, and yet he’d insisted on the most cartoon-ish of the bunch. Eugene privately believed it was just so Snafu could see the look of disdain on Diane’s face. Eugene continued to watch Snafu, the man whose eyes rarely left him.

“Hey how long we got left ‘til that swimmin’ hole’a yours? Fryin’ like an egg on’a pan, ova here,”

Eugene squinted up the road, “Just a little further I think. Diane said something about a metal silo. If it’s too much for your delicate sensibilities though, you might still be able to turn back,” he nudged at Snafu’s shoulder.

“Fuck righ’ off,” Snafu grinned, momentarily leaning in. The smell of hot manure and grass filled their nostrils as they passed another fenced pasture. A few dappled cows peered out from their coveted patches of shade.

“There it is!” Eugene suddenly crowed, hopping to quicken his pace. He could already feel the cool water at his blistered ankles. Snafu broke into a run close behind. Dress shoes only made the entire affair that much more comical, sliding through the dust.

Once at the clearing, Eugene began the process of undressing without hesitation. Expensive wool socks and painstakingly pleated slacks lay abandoned in a shapeless pile on a bed of dry leaves and clay. Stripped to his boxer shorts, already giddy with relief, he threw a glanced around his shoulder at Snafu.

He caught Snafu staring once again, but this time with another look altogether in his eyes.

“What’re you waiting for?” Eugene prodded to break the tension.

Snafu somehow hadn’t been prepared for this. It wasn’t an entirely unfamiliar sight. A marine could only live inside his factory-made slacks for so long before the suffocating reality of the tropics set in. Yet even without the fabric, the heat had covered them like a second filmy skin. Any expanse of skin was distorted by a hollowed, hungry belly and the threat of disease lurking in every discolored scratch. At one point Snafu was even able to count the individual ribs lining Sledge’s torso. Now he stood there - an endless road of pale skin, untouched by starvation, colored only by flushed cheeks and benign freckles. Snafu’s breath stuttered.

Eugene’s hands were suddenly on him, tugging him towards the water. Before he could get any sort of proper traction, Snafu went tumbling into the cool, murky pool.

His world turned to fuzzy fragments of light and distorted noise before he broke through surface, sputtering. Pungent water dripped into his eyes. He looked down at his soaked, sagging clothes and then at Sledge. He bit his lip, “Shun’a don that.”

Snafu reached to shove the redheaded blur under, but his hands couldn’t wholly find purchase on wet skin. Hands messily slipped over Eugene’s neck and shoulders instead. Eugene managed to escape, blinding him with a splash. The sound of his unconstrained laughter caused the patter right below Snafu’s collarbone to speed up. Amidst a flurry of cursing and limbs, Snafu finally caught him roughly by the waist and pulled him into a headlock.

“You win, ok ok, let me go!” Eugene fruitlessly tugged at the arms confining him.

Both men struggled towards the decrepit excuse of a dock nearby, wood gray and green with age. The structure groaned under Snafu’s weight as he pulled himself up beside Eugene. Their toes just skimmed the water’s surface. He retrieved a fallen cigarette from his now-sopping pack, thoughtfully blowing off debris. Eugene chuckled with disbelief as the other man lit up the remains.

After a few moments, Eugene plucked the damp stick from him and placed it between his own lips. Snafu allowed his eyes to fall shamelessly to the pink line of the other man's mouth. Eugene exhaled, “Pay back,”

“Thought you were a pipe man now,” he grumbled. 

“’S’pose I changed my mind,”

“’S’pose I won that fight fair n’ square. Lucky the missus wasn’ here ta see ya lose,”

“She ain’t my missus,” Eugene frowned.

“Sure seemed n’ awful lot like it,” Snafu countered. The sky steadily shifted from turquoise to pearly grey. Clouds began swirling overhead.

“If you’re so damned interested in my life, why’d you never bother answering my goddamn letter?” Eugene suddenly blurted out. Beat of silence passed between them.

“What’d you think was gonna happen?" Snafu reclined back on his elbows. "‘Hugs ‘n kisses, Merriell the big ol’ queer Shelton?’ X’s ‘n O’s? Two guys gonna go steady or some shit?” he mocked Eugene, praying his voice didn't betray his cowardice. His eyes avoided the lines of the other man’s bare shoulders.

“Fuck you,” Eugene’s expression knotted into a snarl. Eugene shifted to plant one hand on either side of Snafu's head. Their bare chests were suddenly touching as Eugene pinned him. Snafu's eyes no longer glossed over him with a detached sort of wanting. Eugene could plainly see Snafu's own arousal at their proximity. The fact only made the hurt crawl that much further up Eugene’s tongue.

“This what you want?” he looked straight into Snafu's eyes. He wrestled a button loose on Snafu’s borrowed trousers, struggling to balance on one hand and as a result pressed their hips closer together. Eugene hid a shiver, as his knuckles brushed the taught fabric between Snafu's legs. “You want to fuck me and get it over with? No goddamn X’s and O’s. That better for you Snafu?”

Snafu made no move to push him aside, simply staring up at him as his breath rattled in his chest. Slippery hands began to lower Snafu's metal zipper without fear of rebuttal. Out of the corner of his vision Eugene saw Snafu’s hands hover with the thought of touching him in return just over his thighs. Instead, dirtied palms fell flat on the dock. “Gene,” his molasses-drawl came out distressed. 

Eugene squeezed his eyes shut and tried to focus. Snafu surged forward and suddenly they were kissing. He struggled to get at his mouth until hands cupped the back of his head. Eugene began to push with greater purpose, instinctively rocking into Snafu’s body. He shivered from head to toe at the feeling of Snafu’s mouth responding to him. 

The sky began to drizzle and cold streams of water slid down Eugene’s bare back. Snafu's calloused fingers joined them to traced the water's path down Eugene's spine. Eugene pulled him closer- reveling in the mouth that still tasted like sour lake water as it slid against his own- aware of the frantic energy building up inside him.

Eugene tugged down at Snafu’s underwear. He'd only gone to bed with Diane a hand full of times, never-mind a man. He'd never even touched a man like this before. Even when Eugene had wanted to, he hadn't. Eugene was in over his head, but goddamn if he’d let that stop him now.

Snafu roughly reversed their positions and began to rut his body into Eugene's with conviction; shallow and slow or hard and urgent. He nosed at Sledge’s hair, whispering curses, apologies, and Eugene's name in equal measure. Not long after, his body folded with the wave of his orgasm. Snafu reached down to fist Eugene, hand slick with water around his length, urging him to come.

Once Eugene finally did, all of the ferocity left their bodies. The two men breathed in each other as Eugene clutched at Merriell’s heaving shoulders. The rain now came down in thick slaps across their heads and arms. Thunder rolled across heavy black clouds and a wind stirred through the overhanging branches. Sledge felt raw under Snafu’s naked weight, his whole chest strained. Neither moved.

After some time, Snafu helped him up, cringing into a sitting position. He then collapsed against the nearest tree trunk for support. Snafu lowered himself to sit beside him. His eyes were raptly focused. “Gene, wasn' never like that...” 

Eugene felt a dizzying calm at the admittance, even when he’d always acknowledged it to be true. A broken, feverish giggle erupted from inside him unsolicited.  “I know."

___

Still dressed in her favorite periwinkle blue frock and polished heels, Diane sat quietly in the receding twilight.

Her wide skirt fanned out around her as she fixated on the stretch of drive leading from her house to the road. Her curls had started to lose shape in the humidity of the impending storm and the straps of her pumps had begun to cut into her skin after a day of wear. She knew it was foolish to wait. Her parents had said as much after the first couple hours, faces twisted with both confusion and disappointment. The old, stately southern home remained immobile, stiff on the landscape as water finally broke from the clouds.


End file.
